


Hit Me Where It Hurts

by mrc2



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alfor is president, Allura is mentioned, Altea is a city, Altean Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cages, Galra gang, Gangs, Gun Violence, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Lance (Voltron) Angst, M/M, Maybe not incredibly slow, Protective Keith (Voltron), Slow Burn, im sorry, the others aren't mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 03:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11889291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrc2/pseuds/mrc2
Summary: "For God's sake, calm down." Keith growled in irritation."You think I would and just let myself be kidnapped? Screw you." Lance snapped back.-- Keith wasn't expecting to fall for the blue-eyed son of the president. Especially when he was one of the people holding that boy hostage





	Hit Me Where It Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I need to stop hurting Lance. He's too precious for this. I swear I do love him.
> 
> I ship these two too much, it's not healthy.

The city of Altea had been well-known for its amazingly low crime records. People felt safe there, especially with the Altean police force protecting them. And, if it was needed, the force would send out their elite group known as Voltron. No criminal got passed them. President Alfor was the one who founded the group. Altea had been an incredibly safe city, people knew not to commit a crime as the police would put a stop to them immediately. The civilians lived a life without the fear of getting involved in any sort of crime. They weren't scared to stay out late. Sure, there were a few mishaps but nothing the police force couldn't handle. Overall, the city was happy. However, that was until the gang known as the Galra moved in.

Merciless, twisted and violent. Three words that could describe the gang. They brought fear back into everyone's lives, they brought crime back into the city. They were fast, efficient and left no witnesses. They covered their tracks, the police struggled to find them. The Voltron squad was the only group that could stop them but they couldn't be everywhere at once. The gang was led by a horrible man, purple haired and yellow eyed. He was called Zarkon. He found humour in watching people's sufferings, laughed in the face of those who failed to pay back debts to the gangs and letting them get dragged to be tortured until death. It was all just a game to him. Altea was his playing board. Zarkon had eyes everywhere, always watching. All he wanted was to kill Alfor and take claim of the city. It should be easy, but that brought up the problem of Voltron. They protected president Alfor, stopping Zarkon's plans for getting an easy murder. Their identities were secret, they always wore masks. They were well-trained professionals, something Zarkon both admired and wanted to crush. They were good at keeping there real life a secret, Zarkon couldn't quite figure out who they were. And they just wouldn't die, no matter what he threw at them. That simply would not do.

After years of trying to destroy the Altean president, Zarkon had decided enough was enough. He gave up on finding Voltron's identities and had chosen to try a new strategy instead. Take a hostage, a valuable hostage. Voltron would be defending the president but their attention may not be on the children. And, wasn't it just their luck, that the younger sibling had gone out in his own one night, looking as though he were looking for something. Too bad he wouldn't find it. Silly little child, did he not realise how much danger he was in?

  
*

  
"Oi, Keith." Ritchek, a galra with a pure love for anything hot (he loves to burn things for fun), said. Keith turned to look at him with a clearly unimpressed look. He disliked Ritchek, the guy knew it, but he'd been forced to work with him and a couple others. "I spot our target." Keith immediately turned to peer through the bushes they were sat behind, eyes zoning in on a young man walking their way down the forest path. Alfor's son. Lance, was it? Keith didn't care about his name, or about the guy all together. He was an idiot who was walking through the forest at night, he should know of the dangers the Galra gang brought to him and his family now. If he did know then he didn't seem to care.

The boy looked around his age, seventeen. His hair was a snowy white just like his father's and, in the dark light the evening set upon them, it looked as though he wore a baggie grey hoodie with a pair of blue jeans. Lance had two marks underneath his eyes from what Keith could tell, tattoos? Everyone in Altea had them, or well most of them did. It was like how people from Galra had yellow eyes pretty often. It wasn't seen as common to not have them. The young man's limbs were long, good for climbing but Keith was wondering if they ever got in the way when he was running, and his hair was short yet neatly cut. Lance looked as though he was looking for something, eyes squinted and his head turning from side to side. He stopped every now and then so he could peer into a bush. At one point, he had cupped his hands on either side of his mouth and called out for 'Blue'. Keith didn't know who that was, nor did he care.

He turned to look at Richtek then Icabe - another Galra in the group who was equipped with the chloroform as Zarkon wanted the boy back in one piece - then to Eebat, the scrawny-looking Galra who wielded a curved knife. He was there in case Lance put up a fight.  He may be small but he was quick and was skilled with his knife, knowing the exact points to hit if he didn't want to fatally wound the boy or if he just wanted to hurt him enough to make him scream. His straggly blonde hair was combed back and off of his face. He wasn't much older than Keith but he was already getting smiling wrinkles. Keith didn't like Eebat, the twitchy Galra was a complete sadist. In fact, Keith didn't like Icabe either. He didn't like any of the Galra he knew. He didn't like the whole gang, actually. But he had to be loyal or his life would be the price. The four of them were situated behind a clump of bushes, ready to leap out.

There was a moment of silence when Lance came to a stop. His hands slipped into the hoodie's pocket. Keith eyed his movements, holding his breath just in case Lance could hear him in the silence that fell upon them all. But then Lance pulled out a handgun, clicking off the safety and pointing it at the bush the galra were hiding behind in one swift moment. In the dim light through the trees, Keith could see the way Lance's eyebrow arched. Richtek growled beside him. An actual, deep, rumbling growl. What was he? A cat? This president's son owned a gun, that was a massive surprise. The way he held it was with confidence, like he had shot it at least a hundred times before. Keith eyed the gun through the bush. There was something about the way he held his gun that reminded Keith of the Blue Paladin, the sharpshooter from Voltron squad. But Lance was too lanky for that, plus he was the president's son so Alfor wouldn't have let his son in any harm's way. But that raised another question, why did he have a gun?

"Okay, creepers, what do you want?" Lance said, voice piercing through the quiet night. That was a nice voice, if Keith had to admit. Though the stayed silent. Keith took to the side to check on the rest of his 'team'. Wait, Icabe wasn't there. "All I wanna do is find my cat, Blue. So, would be appreciated if you all be creepers somewhere else, thanks." He paused, head twitching to the side as if he heard something. Keith watched a frown form on his face. "Don't creep up on me. You weirdo." And he spun around, swiping the gun in a quick arch, hitting Icabe on the side of the head causing the man to stumble to the side. Lance grinned triumphantly, hitting the disoriented Galra on the head again with his gun. Icabe stumbled again, this time he tripped on his own feet and dropped the chloroform rag as he tumbled onto the floor. "That'll teach you, stalker."

He didn't see Eebat coming up behind him, knife held firmly in his hand. He grabbed the back of Lance's hoodie and pulled him down to his height so his spine arched backwards painfully while the other hand pressed the blade to his throat. Lance was bent back so far that he was staring up at the sky with wide eyes. Keith and Richtek rose from their positions. Lance was breathing heavily through his nose, arms raised with his grip tight on the gun. Icabe stood up with a frown, eyes filled with a pure look of hatred. He was going to hold those hits against the blue-eyed kid. Keith walked around Lance so he could effectively disarm him with a sharp hit to the wrist. Lance's features twisted in anger. Good, let him get angry. Keith just stared at him, though this time, he looked at him with slight interest.

"Icabe, the chloroform. Don't want him kicking and screaming, do we?" Richtek said, folding his arms over his head as he looked Lance over. Icabe grabbed another rag from his belt and nodded. "Shame we have to bring him back alive. I'd prefer to just burn him here and now." The sharp intake of breath from the said boy caused him to laugh. "I won't do that! I'm just saying I'd prefer to. Though, if I bloodied you up a little, it could just pass off as you tried to escape. I, being the loyal Galra, punched you to a pulp so you could learn your lesson. Sound good?"

"Nah, doesn't sound good." Lance said simply, looking at Richtek as well as he could from the position, "Mind letting me up, shorty? My back hurts." He spoke to Eebat but he didn't look away from Richtek. His eyes were dark, a silent warning. The knife pressed further into his neck, pricking the skin. Keith hated the way the Galra treated people, this wasn't an exception. He wanted to punch Eebat. But this was a job for Zarkon so he couldn't. "A-Alright, alright. Let's talk about this, 'Kay?" Richtek snorted in amusement. "How much m-money do you want?" Richtek downright laughed and didn't respond. Icabe finished with the chloroform and walked over to where Lance was. "Come on, I'll give you whatever you need."

Icabe started to raise the rag to Lance's face but the hostage immediately took a deep breath of fresh air. Keith's eyebrows shot up. There was only a second before everything became a blur. Lance launched a foot out, kicking Icabe straight in the crotch while his elbow lashed out behind him and hit Eebat right in the stomach. The two of them stumbled away from the brunet. Keith, upon realising what was going on, narrowed his eyes and set into action. He lunged forward when Lance reached for the gun on the floor, catching Lance off guard and tackling him to the ground. He landed on top of the struggling boy, knee pressed to his chest effectively pinning him. When fists came up to punch at him, he grabbed the wrists and pinned them above the president son's head. Lance struggled beneath him almost desperately. Keith realised there wasn't any of that confidence left from when he'd been holding his gun. Maybe he wasn't a close combat type of person. The body beneath him wriggled in desperation to get out of there. Keith hated this job. He wanted to just let him go. But he couldn't.

With the brunet beneath him, Keith was able to see his face clearer. And, God, was he a sight to see. He was gorgeous. And that was coming from Keith, someone who didn't find many people attractive. The bronze skin looked soft and flawlessly smooth. His eyes were beautiful, breath-takingly so. They were a deep blue, like the depths of the ocean. A calm, gentle ocean just after a storm. His eyes held the heat of anger but also the cold of terror. His jaw formed a slightly pointed chin, nose resembling a ski-slope, but they both added to how beautiful this young man was. His lips were perfectly-sculptured and, wow, did Keith have a massive urge to kiss them.

His grip tightened around the struggling wrists. Those blue eyes met his. They shared a look. Lance stopped struggling for a brief moment while Keith glared a warning. But then he picked up again. Keith dug his knee down, mentally punching himself when a little whimper of pain left Lance's lips. But he had to get him to just stop struggling, to just stay still. It would be easier for the both of them. Why couldn't he get that?

"For God's sake, calm the fuck down." Keith growled in irritation.

"You think I would and just let myself be kidnapped? Fuck you." Lance snapped back. Keith dug his knee down further, Lance's anger faltered as he held back another whine. "Fuck. You." Lance repeated then his attention turned to the recovering others, smirk on his lips as he continued to try and pull his arms out of Keith's grip. Just. Stop. Struggling. This idiot. "Sorry, Mr Burn-It-All, wasn't able to punch you too. Which reminds me, you've," a sharp twist of the body in attempt to throw Keith off but it didn't work, "done nothing to help out. You a wimp or something?"

"This brat!" Richtek shouted as he brought a leg back, "Zarkon will be glad to see you." Keith didn't miss the look of fear on Lance's face before Richtek kicked forward, foot hitting Lance's head. The let out no noise as it knocked him unconscious, a cut on his cheek bone from the impact already starting to bleed. Keith fought the urge to wipe it off as he eased his grip on him. "Why didn't we do that to begin with?" Richtek looked mad. Keith just rolled his eyes before looking back at the unconscious male.

One look at that pretty face and Keith realised, those markings were a soft blue. Like a clear sky.

  
*

  
"Bring the boy here." Zarkon demanded.

Keith stood among the crowd of gang members that had gathered in a large semi-circle around their leader. He stood at the front, making sure he got a good view. Not because he wanted to see Lance get hurt, no. The room was large and the best furnished in the run-down abandoned factory. It had been turned into a room with a red carpet, a large painted-gold seat at the end of it. It was known as the throne room just because Zarkon was the only one who sat on that... 'throne'.

The now conscious hostage was dragged into the room by Richtek and Icabe, a black hood over his head so he couldn't see. Keith frowned. Lance was shoved to the ground, his hands bound by tight rope. He landed on his knees, and if that hurt, he sure didn't show any signs. His head turned from side to side, hood following the movements. He was trying to see. By the way his hands were fiddling with one another, Keith could tell that he was starting panic. There were laughs from around him. He wasn't the only one who noticed. The fiddling stopped, fingers slowly curling into fists. Icabe pulled the hood off of his head. The brunet blinked a few times, getting used to the new sudden light, before he looked around the room. He seemed to be registering his surroundings, eyes trailing over the crowd. When that blue gaze landed on Keith, he saw a look of recognition on his face before those perfect eyebrows furrowed and he looked away and at Zarkon. Keith needed to remember, he'd been doing what he was told to do. He may not like the gang but he would like to continue living.

Lance was doing his best to keep up a brave face. It was obvious. He stared up at Zarkon with eyes of defiance. Zarkon was only smirking down at him. Lance gulped visibly but refused to break the eye contact.

"Can I just say, before you open your big ugly mouth?" Lance spoke up suddenly. Zarkon's smirk disappeared. Lance didn't wait for an answer. "This place is ugly as fuck." He looked around, "Like, I swear your wall has mould on it. Can't you see?" Zarkon's mouth twisted downwards. "Mind untying me? As the president's son, I expect five-star treatment. So far, you've all been pretty shit. Plus, my head is killing me, got any painkillers for a man in need?" Keith stifled a laugh with a cough at Zarkon's face. He looked disbelieving that this guy was talking to him like that. But then Zarkon composed himself and that devilish smirk was back on his features.

"Sorry to disappoint, but you are going to be treated the same for the rest of your stay." Zarkon replied, voice deep and rumbling. Lance narrowed his eyes. "I hope you understand that you're going to get me something I want."

"I'm not getting you anything you want, Sir Dick head." Lance retorted.

"You're not going to be getting it physically. You're my bait on a string to catch your father. And I'll kill him. Very, very slowly." Lance's expression dropped and turned into pure horror. It was only there for a moment but the look would be permanently carved into Keith's memory. Then the look twisted into that of hostility, the hostage's arms tugging at his bound wrists.

"Not happening. Let me go!"

"Also, not happening."

Lance's struggling ceased and he let out an annoyed huff of air from his mouth. "You're a dick."

"As I've heard."

"So what now?" Lance asked, his expression had changed from anger and was replaced by a look that resembled boredom. Seriously, who was this kid? "I just sit here and wait until papa bear comes swooping in? Yeah, not gonna happen."

"It's already happening, little boy. This place is heavily guarded, you won't be getting out any time soon. Not even Voltron can save you." That earned a spluttering laugh from the blue-eyed boy. Keith mentally rolled his eyes. Could he just not shut up? Was he not capable of shutting his mouth? Seriously... There's people you don't want to piss off. Zarkon was definitely one of those people. "Why are you laughing? You aren't in the right place for any humour." Zarkon snapped.

"Voltron are gonna be pissed when they find out you have me. They'll be storming the place, shoving all your asses in prison." He laughed as he gestured to everyone else in the room with his head. Zarkon arched an eyebrow. He was curious though there was a hint of anger. Keith's mind clicked as soon as though words left Lance's mouth. Oh.

"And why's that?"

"Because you just kidnapped their favourite sharpshooter." Immediately the room erupted into noise. There were angry shouting from the crowd around Keith. They shouted insults, threats, vulgar words at Lance who didn't even flinch. He just knelt there on his knees with a shit-eating smirk on his face. Keith knew he had recognised those fighting skills. People here had lost their gang friends due to the Voltron squad catching them and turning them in. Some had even been shot and killed by the blue paladin in front of them. Keith knew that their deaths had been on them, it was their fault for shooting first. Keith looked to Zarkon. The look on his face was unreadable. It was worrying.

"What a treat." Zarkon said slowly. Lance's smirk slowly vanished. "Well, I can't help you if my members can't keep their control. Now that you revealed yourself, Blue Paladin, I do not apologise for the treatment you've brought upon yourself. We'll give it a day or two before we spark a deal." He looked to Richtek, "Take him to his cage." Lance's eyes were wide and round, filled with regret. Keith could only watch as the boy was dragged out of the room, not given the chance to stand up as he struggled to free himself from the arms that held him. Before he turned around the corner and out of sight, it wasn't hard to hear the loud shout that came from the Paladin.

"If you hurt my dad, I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you all!"

And Keith believed him.

  
*

  
Keith held a tray in his hands. He'd been given the job of feeding the hostage. It had been a few hours since he'd watched the Blue Paladin be dragged out of the room. He sighed. He knew what the gang was capable of. Heck, he'd seen stuff happen on many occasions. Most of which he wanted to forget. The gang had a reputation no matter where they were. If someone had heard of the Galra, they'd know the terrible, twisted things that they had done. Keith wanted nothing to do with it. But he had to. Once you were in the gang, you couldn't leave. His parents had been a part of the gang before they were killed. They had wanted Keith to leave, had wanted to leave themselves and take their son to safety but they were unable to take their son. They had been unable to leave. Zarkon had shot them where they stood.

Keith would've left. He should've left. But he couldn't. It just wasn't possible. Keith had grown up in the gang, they had kept him alive. Keith had had to learn how to grow up quickly, had been taught how to fight by the others in the gang. Keith sighed. He hated the gang, everything about it. Sometimes, he just wished he could get himself arrested just so he could get away.

"You brought water?" He heard a voice ask. Keith blinked back to reality, not quite realising he'd made it to the cage. It was situated in the middle of a room full of machinery. They'd removed the massive pieces of factory machinery and put in cages, squares that were dotted around the whole room. They were meant for dogs, tall enough for most to stand in if they ducked their head down and wide enough to pace a few steps before banging into the bars. It could fit about two and... a half people if they were lucky. It had been done. And by half, it was a genuine half. Zarkon had cut the legs clear from the rest of a body once before tossing it in with the other two prisoners. Lance couldn't stretch out his legs, forced to keep them tucked against his chest. Keith stared down at him for a long moment. Lance scoffed and plopped his head on his knees, a small pout on his lips.

It took Keith a moment to realise he probably should reply. He coughed awkwardly. "Yeah." He walked to the door into the cell. He paused when he was in front of it. "You try anything and I'll break your nose." He watched as Lance raised his hands to cover his nose and nod. Keith hesitantly rested the tray on one arm as he used the key he'd been given to unlock the door. It was just like the rest of the bars except thicker, flatter metal lined the outline. He made sure to use his body to block the doorway and handed out the tray. A plastic cup of water and a barely a quarter of a loaf of bread. That was all they were giving Lance.

"Thanks." Lance said simply as he picked the glass up then the bread. He placed the bread on his lap, ignoring the crumbs that clung to his clothes. He took a few sips as Keith stepped out and locked the door behind him. Just as Keith was turning to leave, Lance spoke up again. "Y'know, you're different from the rest of them."

Keith looked over his shoulder at him, slowly turning fully to face him properly. "How?" Lance barely knew him. He doubted he even knew his name.

"You're actually pretty hot."

As soon as the words registered, Keith was sure his cheeks turned a deep red. Judging by Lance's laughter, he was right. Was he flirting even in this situation? If Keith had been anyone else, that could've led the Paladin to a beating. Keith turned around again and walked out of the room as quickly as he could, ignoring the way the laughter ceased abruptly.

  
*

  
The next time Keith went to give Lance his bread and water sometime the next morning, he was surprised to see that the boy was curled on his side. He was fast asleep. Keith stopped at the bars, watching the peacefully sleeping young man. His cheek was smushed against an arm that was tucked under his head as a makeshift pillow. His body had almost completely curled in on itself and his back pressed against the bars and it took Keith another few seconds to realise that he was shivering. It was cold in here. Lance had stayed the night in the room without a blanket or anything of comfort, just his hoodie and jeans and those white trainers that rivalled the colour of his hair. Keith felt bad for having to wake him up.

He gently tapped on the bars. "Hey, wake up." He called. The Blue Paladin didn't respond in any way. Keith frowned and crouched so he could put the tray on the floor. Maybe he put it down louder than he should, cringing at the clang the metal made when it hit the floor. It was a miracle that the plastic cup didn't fall over. The sound didn't even phase the sleeping male. Wow, sleeping beauty? More like sleeping Lance.

Keith sighed and inched closer, poking at the back that was pressed against the bars. "Oi." Lance didn't ever stir. He grumbled to himself as he tried again, poking harder. Still, nothing. "For God's sake, wake up." He groaned loudly. He thought for a moment before an idea came to mind. He leant forward so he was close to Lance's head through the bars. He counted to three. One, two - "Lance!" He shouted.

The hostage shot up, eyes wild and panicked. He turned around and scrambled backwards until his back hit the bars on the opposite side of the cage as he stared at Keith. The hair on the side of his head he'd been sleeping on was all messed up and sticking in random directions. The hoodie was all ruffled, giving Keith a view of a slither of the skin on his stomach. That stupid, perfect skin.

"Don't. Do. That. Again." Lance said through frantic breaths, looking like a startled animal.

"Can't make any promises." Keith replied, smirking smugly. Then he remembered the food and drink. "I brought breakfast." He picked up the tray as he stood up straight.

Lance looked at it and sighed. "Wow, such a varied menu." He said, voice monotone but he was shuffling on his knees closer to the bars where Keith was at. "Just pass it through the bars. I'm hungry." He made grabby hand gestures reminding Keith of a three year old.

Keith did as he was told. Lance bit into the bread immediately, chewing with full cheeks. Keith noticed a crumb on the corner of his mouth and fought the urge to wipe it off.

"So, are you my official food giver?" Lance asked, mouth full of food giving Keith a... pleasant view of the chewed up bread. Disgusting. You'd think the president's son might have some manners. Keith nodded. "Good. 'Cos I like you better than all those other Galra bastards."

"You don't know me though." Keith said.

"I don't have to. You haven't been harsh once. I've had about ten different people coming in here and spitting some empty threats at me. I could make another Human Centipede with the amount of times they said they'd cut my head off. Decapitation, that's the way to go." He grinned sarcastically. Then his head tilted, a puppy-like look of confusion on his face. "What do I call you, Mr Food Giver?"

Keith debated whether he should reply or not. He did anyway. "Keith." Lance mouthed his name back at him before humming in approval.

"That's different." He said. Now it was Keith's turn to look confused. "You have all the people with some cool ass names. Richtek, Icabe, Zarkon - even if he is a dick - and then we got Keith. I was expecting something cooler. I don't know, why not Keithatron? That's a hell of a lot cooler."

"Keithatron?" Keith couldn't help but let out an amused huff.

"Keith's just boring on its own."

"There's nothing wrong with my name." Keith retorted with a frown, though the conversation did still have him amused. He didn't like how he was looking down at Lance from this position. "What type of name is Lance? You're named after a weapon."

"That's cool though! It's better than 'Keith'." He teasingly pulled a weird voice upon saying his name, emphasising on the 'th' until he was practically spitting. Keith rolled his eyes. When he looked back at Lance, he looked completely serious. "Hey, have you heard anything about what Zarkon's planning?" He asked. Keith didn't know a thing and even if he did know something, he couldn't tell Lance. Zarkon would get him punished for sure. So Keith just shook his head. "Great..." Lance looked a little deflated at that.

"I'm sorry, Lance." Keith said and turned to walk out of the room. He heard the sound of hurried footsteps from in the cage and turned around to see Lance scrambling to his feet.

"No, no, don't leave." He said quickly. Keith refused to let his heart squeeze at those words. They sounded desperate. "You're the only decent guy around." Keith sighed for what felt like the hundredth time. He wanted to stay, he really did, but he knew he'd start getting attached. There was a slim chance Lance would be getting out of this alive and Keith didn't want to grieve anyone when it was all finished. He'd already done that enough with his parents.

"I can't. Gotta get back to gang duties." He replied and walked out.

  
*

  
"Keith." Said young man turned around to see Richtek walking his way, Eebat hot on his tail. Keith mentally groaned in irritation. "You just saw the prisoner?" Prisoner, something about Lance being considered a prisoner rubbed off wrong on Keith causing him to grit his teeth in annoyance. He nodded. "We're just going to see him now. Hey, hey, want us to let you in to a little secret me and Eebat got?" Keith didn't respond but he knew Richtek would carry on anyway. "Zarkon's given us the okay to beat that bugger up." He grinned big. Keith wanted to punch him. "Eebat brought his knife so, just gonna warn you. If you see any stains on the hoodie, that Eeb's fault." The jittery male nodded with an eager grin. Eebat seemed to be bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"You shouldn't hurt him." Keith said. It earned him a weird look from Richtek. Eebat just shrugged.

"We can do what we want, orphan." Richtek said, his composure suddenly changing as his tone took a darker note to it. "If Zarkon says we can, then we will. If you got a problem with that, you know where we are." And then he led Eebat down the hall and to the cage room.

Keith had to remind himself that he couldn't go against what Zarkon says. If he said they could hurt Lance a little, so be it. He couldn't help even if he wanted to.

  
*

  
The next time he saw Lance, it was the evening, hours after he was sure Richtek and Eebat hurt Lance. The given bread had reduced in size and the amount of water had lessened. Keith wished he could give him more. He walked up to the cage. Lance was leaning against the bars, legs spread out as far as they could go in front of him. They were bent at the knees, unable to stretch out completely in the little space he had. Keith once again found himself wishing he could give him more. The boy looked up when he heard footsteps approaching, relaxing upon realising it was Keith. The bruises Richtek had left behind were noticeable immediately.

They were dark as though his punches had been hard. He had a split lip, the cut on his cheek bone was bleeding again, the bruise on the side of his neck and leading down to his collar bone was the most noticeable. Richtek had hit him hard, it looked painful. And when he warned Keith about the stains on the hoodie, he was right. Short and thin lines of blood were dotted around the hoodie as if they soaked through the fabric. Keith didn't want to know what his chest looked like.

"And so the mullet boy returns." Lance said, flashing a grin.

"I'm sorry, this is all they gave me for you." Keith said quickly as he handed the food and drink through the bars. Lance looked at them with a look Keith realised was disappointment. He must be thirsty, hungry as well. It was late afternoon. Last time he was sure Lance ate was at breakfast.

"It's fine." Lance said simply as he gulped down the water. "So those two douchebags showed up not long after you left." He sighed and placed the cup down before attacking at the bread. "Had one hell of a party." He tried to move into a comfortable position but Keith saw how it must've hurt him. His eyes were squinted and he held back a noise that would give away how much the beating had hurt. Keith found himself regretting how he didn't stop the two. "I hope they have fun when they're behind bars."

"I hope they rot behind bars." Keith said firmly. Lance looked surprised, looking over at him.

"But they're your gang mates." Lance said. Keith just gave an empty laugh.

"And that means I have to like them?" Keith saw the way Lance looked as though he wanted to know more. Keith glanced around, making sure they were alone. He then bent down, crouching and wrapping his hands around the bars. "I hate the gang."

"Well, I think that's a popular opinion."

"Yeah. But you haven't seen what I've seen. It's disgusting."

"Zarkon's disgusting."

"Okay, that's true."

"I speak nothing but the truth!" Lance replied. Keith chuckled, arching an eyebrow at the boy. Keith moved to sit down properly, legs crossed in front of him. Lance slowly, and with a tiny bit of struggle, moved into a position on the other side of the bars that mirrored him completely. "Why do you stay then?" Keith was surprised at the question, it was filled with genuine confusion.

"Because Zarkon would kill me." He replied truthfully. It was a cowardly response, he hated himself for being scared of a death by Zarkon. Saying it out loud made him feel a sense of shame wash over him.

"He won't be able to kill you when he's in prison." Lance said after a few beats of silence. Keith found himself looking at the boy, noticing the intensity in his eyes. He was determined, Keith realised, determined to arrest Zarkon. Keith had a faint dash of hope that he was also determined to save Keith from this hell hole. Keith had to remind himself, that wouldn't happen. Zarkon was too powerful in the crime world for that. He had connections. But Keith found himself believing Lance's words. Maybe, just maybe, Lance was right. As he had mentioned earlier, he spoke nothing but the truth.

"Hey, I have a question." Keith said finally after a long silence. Lance hummed in response, he was listening. "What are the marks on your cheeks?" Lance instinctively reached up to touch them.

"Well, they're tattoos. Everyone in Altea gets them. They're to show strength yet peace. They resemble Altea as a city." Lance explained before a large smile formed on his face, "You like them?" When Keith nodded, Lance let out a little fist pump. "You think they're cute, meaning you think I'm cute." Keith's cheeks immediately turned a bright red.

"Hey, hold on! I didn't say you're cute." He protested.

"But you think it."

"No I don't!"

"Lies, lies. You should take a tip from the truth guru right here."

"In your dreams." Lance started laughing. Keith couldn't stop himself from smiling. That laugh was addictive, he could listen to it all day.

"You'd definitely be in my dreams, Keith." They fell quiet and ended up just looking at each other through the bars. Keith saw how Lance leant forward slightly towards him, the movement managed to get Keith to do the same. They leant forward until they were only an inch or two from the bars on either side. They stayed like that for a few moments. Lance's eyes flickered to Keith's lips for a split second, his own parting just a little. There was something about the moment that held a sense of intimacy which Keith didn't want to go away. But it did go away, it had to.

Keith pulled away, oblivious to the look of slight disappointment on Lance's face. "I have to go. I can't spend too much time here." He stood up, "I'll be back."

"Of course you'll be back, you won't be able to resist my cuteness."

"I don't think you're cute."

"From the way you were looking at me just now, I'd say you think I'm adorable."

Keith just rolled his eyes, unable to stop the short laugh from leaving his mouth. He couldn't deny it. Screw adorable, Lance was irresistible. He could faintly hear Lance saying he had a nice laugh as he left the room.

Scrap the idea of not getting attached. Keith wanted to hold Lance and never let go.

 

*

  
"I need to use the man-potty!" Lance whined, "Like right now!"

He was the only one in the room. Keith had left at least an hour ago, if his idea of time was correct, there weren't any windows so he couldn't tell. Lance liked him, he was kinder than the others. He didn't insult Lance, didn't threaten him, he didn't speak as much as Lance hoped but he didn't fail to hold a conversation. He was also drop-dead gorgeous. He even made a mullet look sexy and that was one hell of an achievement! Lance wouldn't mind being under this guy, damn. That moment they had shared flashed to memory and Lance found himself smiling fondly. That had been nice, it had made Lance forget the situation for a sweet, sweet moment.

He sighed. Every time Keith walked through that door, Lance was sure his heart sped up. Lance found himself looking forward to when Keith walked through that door. The last time Keith had come to give him food, he had a few strands of his perfect hair out of place and Lance had wanted to reach through the bars so he could push them out of his face. It would also give Lance a chance to see if his hair was as soft as it looked. Was it soft to touch? That was a question Lance wanted answered asap.

"I'm serious!" He called.

He really did have to go to the restroom. He'd been holding in as long as possible. It had been a surprise that he'd lasted the passed almost-two days. Well, he guessed it was that long. He guessed it had to with his lack of drink. He was still hungry too, and thirsty. Needing to take a piss and still craving a glass of water really wasn't a good combination. Just thinking about at least a sip had him whining. He pressed his legs together tightly, standing and holding onto the bars. His lips were turned downwards in a frown. Can't they help a guy in need?!

"I need to pee!" He shouted as loud as he could, "And I'm not peeing in here, no way."

Still no one came. Lance pressed his forehead against the bars. He could hold it until Keith got back, right? But he had no idea when he'd come back. God, let a man piss! He sighed, warm breath hitting the bars. He wasn't going to be polite, wasn't going to use the 'please's and 'thank you's. They deserved that, treat people the way you want to be treated. And, oh, Lance was going to have fun throwing Richtek into jail. That asshole had some solid fists, was he made of concrete or something?

"If you don't let me pee in an actual toilet, I'll start singing." He warned loudly.

He knew they had toilets around. You couldn't have a huge gang base-thing without a restroom at least somewhere? Lance didn't even care if it stank or was dirty, he just needed to piss. Was that too much to ask? When there was no reply, he pushed off the bars, neck aching slightly from having to bend his head against the ceiling of his cage. That was another thing. He was put in a cage like an animal, one where he could barely stand up straight. Give him a collar and a food bowl and, there you have it, a new breed of dog. A Lance. Though, Lance had to admit, he'd make an adorable dog. Everyone would want to pet him, he'd be loveable.

Lance took a deep breath, squeezed his legs against each other tighter. "This is the song that doesn't end! It goes on and on my friend~" he tapped his foot to the tune, "People started singing this not knowing what it was, now they can't stop singing this just because..." He paused to let the lyrics sink in then continued, "This is the song that doesn't end!"

He got at least four rounds in before he heard footsteps headed his way through the doorway. Only seconds later did Icabe storm through. That guy, Lance had only seen twice. He was quiet and always seemed to be wearing a purple tank top which showed off biceps the size of Lance's head. His hair was a black mohawk and one side of his head was tattooed with black celtic lines. He reminded Lance of a tattoo artist for some reason.

"Shut up." Icabe said, voice sharp as he pulled out a bunch of keys and unlocked the cage's door. He gave no warning as he roughly grabbed Lance's hoodie and yanked him through the cafe door before slamming it shut and dragging Lance along. Land had very specific liking on manhandling and he definitely wasn't appreciating this. But at least Icabe was taking him to the restroom, he hoped.

He was right. He was taken down a few hallways, which he memorised quite easily because who knew when he'd need to know where he was going, then shoved through a door with the sign of a disabled toilet. Lance was about to comment on it but the door was slammed shut behind him. Lance rolled his eyes. He could've shut his own doors, thank you very much. He may be a hostage but he knew how doors worked. If you ignored the many times he pulled a push door or walked straight into a glass door. He made sure it was locked then went about saving himself from his desperate need. He sighed in relief when he finished. Now he had to go back out there and get led right on back to his cage where he'd be stuck until Zarkon said he could come out. Lance wasn't looking forward to that. He was looking forward to Keith though.

Then he remembered something. He was going to be used to lure his dad out. Lance suddenly felt a sense of anger grip at his heart. Fuck no, he's not letting that happen. He was a Paladin of the Voltron squad, he was meant to protect the city from crime. He was meant to protect the president. Lance felt a sudden wave of determination wash over him. He was going to do his job. As a paladin, and as a son.

Taking a quick scan over of the room for anything he could find as a weapon. An idea came to mind as his gaze landed on the toilet. He grabbed the toilet's tank cover, glad to see it came loose quickly. Good. He adjusted it in his grip so he held one end of its length. He let go to briefly to unlock the door. The response on the other side was immediate. Icabe went to open the door, barely getting a moment to see what was coming when he got a face full of metal. Lance hit him hard, right in the centre of his face. The metal dented slightly from the impact and Icabe fell unconscious by his feet. Lance grinned triumphantly.

"Don't let the guy go to the toilet, the toilet comes to you." He said with a smirk. That line was lame but he couldn't give two flying flipping fish. He then turned and made a run down the hall, making sure to take turns down the ways he had memorised from the trip to the restroom.

  
*

  
Keith groaned as the gang members filed into the 'throne room', forming that oh-so-familiar semi-circle. Zarkon had called a meeting. The reason for why, Keith wasn't exactly sure of. He once again made sure he was at the front of the crowd, elbowing anyone who tried to get in front of him. This was his spot, everyone else could fuck off. Zarkon sat on his 'throne', one leg crossed over the other as he leant his head into his hand. His elbow rested on the arm of the chair, looking rather bored. He was the one who called the meeting, his gang should be the bored ones here. Plus, it was late, so a lot of them probably had been sleeping in their bunks located near the south of the building.

His attention was grabbed when he saw Richtek and Icabe, who had what looked to be a bloody nose and a lump on his forehead that looked the size of a golf ball, pulling a stumbling Lance into the room. Keith felt anger form in the pit of his stomach when he saw how they'd tied their hostage up. A fucking noose, they tied a noose around Lance's neck and were tugging him along by a short rope. He was forced to move or he'd lose his ability to breathe, tripping over his own feet as he tried to catch up with the speed he was being dragged at. His wrists were tied behind his back as well. He was walking with a limp which didn't help his attempt at keeping up, that beautiful white hair on the side of his head was stained red with blood from what could be assumed as a head wound. Keith didn't understand why the sight made him so angry but he wanted nothing more than to fucking kill everyone who had any part in hurting Lance. But Lance walked on, head held as high as it could no matter how hard he was trying to keep walking.

Lance was forced to kneel again in the same place as before. Keith was expecting him to smirk, to say something, but he stayed silent. Keith didn't understand how the hell Lance was so beat up or why the meeting had been called. Lance's perfect lips formed a straight line as he glared daggers up at Zarkon. If only looks could kill...

"I must say," Zarkon started as he slowly rose from his seat. Lance didn't look away once. "That was a good attempt at escaping but, as you can tell by the way you're kneeling before me, it wasn't good enough." So that was why Lance was so beat up. He'd tried to escape. Keith felt a small sense of pride at that. That idiot. "Playing the silent game, are we?" Lance remained silent. "Well then, I'll carry on with the reason why I called everyone here. I think it's time we send a message to your papa."

A young man walked out of the crowd, camera in his hand. He clicked record the moment Lance tugged at his restraints in anger. A sharp tug at his noose forced him to stop moving, chest heaving as he fought back obvious rage. Keith, well Keith was doing the exact same.

"As you can see, Mr President, we have your son." Zarkon said as he walked towards Lance, eyes never leaving the camera. His hand reached out and grabbed ahold of Lance's hair and yanked his head back to expose his neck where the noose was tied. Lance didn't make a noise. Keith fought back the urge to growl. "And I know for a fact you want him back. So, here's the deal. You come to Altea harbour, on your own must I add, and I will give you back your son. 'What's the catch?' You must be thinking. Well, you're going to turn yourself over to us and I'm going to kill you instead of killing your precious little boy here."

Keith saw the way Lance tore his eyes off of Zarkon and looked to the camera. His tongue darted over his lips. Oh shit, he was going to start speaking. Don't you dare open your mouth, Keith silently warned. Too late.

"It's not worth it, dad, I'll be okay. I'll shoot all these bastards, don't worry. Ple-" he was cut off by the grip in his hair tightening and pulling his head back even further in a painful arch. The rope of the noose dug into the skin. Keith saw the pain in those blue eyes. He wanted to get rid of it, take all that pain away. He felt the anger inside him growing.

"Oh, it's definitely worth it." Zarkon said, amusement clear in his voice, and he finally let go. Lance's head fell forward letting out a cough. Zarkon looked back at the camera. "You have until a day. I expect to see you there in an hour or you can kiss your youngest goodbye." And then he gestured for the camera to be turned off. "Make sure that's sent immediately. I don't want to waste any more time." The young man holding the camera nodded immediately and rushed out of the room without even a glance back.

"Now, now, little Blue Paladin, your father will come for you." Zarkon said, voice tauntingly sweet. He stroked the top of Lance's hair. Keith was glad to see Lance jerk his head away from him. He knew from that that Lance wasn't going to let the fight drain out of him that easily. Zarkon's features twisted in a look that clearly wasn't happy. He roughly grabbed ahold of Lance's chin, fingers digging into his cheeks as he pulled his face to look up at him. Lance glared with fire in his eyes. "I'll make you beg for your life, you pathetic piece of shit. I'll kill you both. I'll make your father watch as I make his son suffer. Then, oh, then I'll kill him. Slowly. I'll make him feel pain unimaginable. Then I'll take Altea as my own. I wonder what your older sister will think when she finds out all of her family is dead."

The flames in Lance's eyes turned into massive infernos. Zarkon wasn't expecting it. No one was expecting it. He twisted his head in Zarkon's grip and bit down hard on the junction between index finger and thumb. Zarkon yanked his hand away with a yell. It was bleeding. Keith's eyes widened a fraction. Lance really went for it there. That little shark! But Keith couldn't help but feel proud of him for it.

"You touch any of my family... Skip the going to jail part, lets speed forward to the going to hell part." Lance said, voice threateningly dangerous. Keith watched that face he'd seen look so happy hold an expression so dark. Zarkon's nostrils flared, his shoulders squared up and his eyes locked onto the kneeling young man, resembling a bull about to charge.

"And, if you kill me, would that make you any better than me?" Zarkon asked, his bleeding hand falling to his side. Lance's fire faltered. "I don't care how much you hurt him, just make sure he's alive for the 'trade'." He said to Richtek before turning and walking up to his 'throne'. "Burn him if you please." That had Richtek grinning and Keith's heart sinking. He saw the terror that dawned upon Lance's face as his noose was tugged harshly. It sent Lance onto his back at the sudden force, landing on top of his tied hands with a surprised yelp. He spluttered and coughed for a moment, Richtek allowing him to do so mostly because he liked seeing the paladin on the floor. Keith clenched his fists at his sides.

When Lance regained his breath, he raised his head slightly to look over the crowd as if he were searching for something. That something had been Keith. They made eye contact, Keith could see that desperation in his eyes. It was a look of pure fear. Wide eyes, eyebrows tilted up in the centre, pupils dilated and Keith was sure he saw a slight glisten in his eyes. It was a look that was crying out for help. Then Lance flashed a playful grin his way just before he had to scramble to his feet as he was dragged out of the room. And that was when Keith knew it. He was starting to fall for this dumb hostage and there was no way he was going to let anyone else harm a hair on his precious head.

  
*

  
Lance cried out when his head was slammed against the exterior of his cage. The noose had been removed from around his neck but his arms were still tied behind his back. Richtek was behind him, one large hand pressed to the back of Lance's head to keep his face pressed against the metal while the other hand rested upon Lance's shoulder. It was a mock hold of reassurance; as if he wasn't going to hurt the boy to his heart's content.

"I'm going to enjoy this." He said, smirk playing upon his lips.

"You sadistic pervert." Lance shot back, giving up on any witty replies he could think of and just running off on insults. Richtek found it incredibly amusing by the sounds of it. He just laughed. Lance tried to kick back at his shin when he saw the opportunity but Richtek quickly hooked his own leg around Lance's to stop him in his tracks and tightened his grip on his shoulder. He pulled Lance's head back only to slam it back into the bars, a yelp of pain escaping his throat without his permission.

Then the hand slipped from his shoulder. Lance vaguely registered the loss with his skull feeling like it was full of fireworks. Did Richtek have to hit him that hard? But, what he wasn't expecting, was the click and quiet whoosh of something. Then he felt heat next to his face. Out of the corner of his eye, Lance spotted that yellow glow that, at that size, shouldn't scare him but it did. A little flame atop of a lighter. It was held close yet not too close to his cheek.

"I'm going to burn as much of that skin of yours as I can, seeing as you take such good care of it." Then the flame was pressed against the soft, vulnerable skin where Lance's jaw ended. Lance let out shouts of pain, body desperately thrashing from side to side to get away from the burning flame pressed against him. It hurt! When the lighter was finally pulled away, Lance was breathing hard. Richtek only laughed. "See, it isn't so bad." That lying bastard! "Now, let's see where I can cause some permanent damage, huh?" And that flame was held up close to the front of Lance's face, dangerously close to his left eye. Richtek smirked when Lance tried to pull his head away. "Ah, I know the exact place. A gunman can't shoot without seeing his target."

Tears pricked to Lance's vision, immediately panicking. If he lost his eyesight, he wouldn't be able to shoot anymore. If he couldn't shoot, he couldn't be Voltron's sharpshooter. If he couldn't be Voltron's sharpshooter then he had no other use in the world. He wasn't going to be president, his sister most likely would be elected before him. He didn't want to cry, he had tried so hard not to but he couldn't help it. He distantly heard Richtek laughing at his tears. He refused to let them fall onto his cheeks though. As the flame drew closer, Lance bit his bottom lip hard enough that he tasted iron in his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut, the tears catching on his lashes as he was unable to watch as the flame drew closer. His hands were tied, he could do nothing but wait for the pain he knew was to follow.

But then suddenly there was an angry yell and a grunt as most likely Richtek was tackled to the ground. Lance lost the feeling of the heat, opening his eyes and blinking back the tears that blurred his vision then turned around.

Keith sat on top of Richtek, fists coming down rapidly on the struggling male. He didn't relent even when Richtek stopped moving. Lance didn't tell him to stop.

"Touch him again and I'll end you." Keith warned before he finally did stop. His attention was on Lance right away after that and he stood up quickly.

"Boy, am I glad to see you." Lance grinned but Keith didn't even smile back. He just walked over, halted a small distance away to survey what Richtek had done. It wasn't much, just a new black eye; a cut to the brow and a small area of burnt skin by his jaw but it was enough to have Keith gathering him into his arms, picking him up bridal style in his arms and setting off at a run. Lance had to say he was definitely surprised. "Stop running so fast, you're moving me too much! My everything hurts." It was true, the beating he'd gotten earlier alongside the one where he tried to escape as well as what Richtek had done only minutes before had taken a toll on him. He would rather curl up in bed and sleep for a year, thanks. The feeling of Keith's arms carrying him had him thinking maybe he could curl up in bed with these arms around him and sleep for another year.

"Sorry." Keith mumbled in response but didn't lessen up. Lance couldn't blame him, they had to get out of there.

"You look hot when you're determined." Lance commented from where his head rested upon Keith's shoulder.

"You look hot all the time, so shut up." Keith replied, not realising the way Lance's cheeks heated up. There was a shout from behind them. They'd found Richtek. It was only a matter of time before-

Sudden wave of gunfire hit the walls and floor next to them. Lance's eyes widened as he raised his head slightly to peer over Keith's shoulder. "Six." Lance said suddenly, "Six men. All armed." Keith spared a glance down at him. Lance's expression was completely serious as he studied the men behind them. Was this how he acted when he was on a job with Voltron? The way Lance's eyes seemed to flick between the men behind them without so much of a flinch as the bullets came their way, came off as professional. Well, he did deal with guns a lot so maybe that was why he was so good at this. Plus, he was the sharpshooter and that took a whole lot of observing.

Keith felt a bullet whiz passed him, cutting across his cheek. He let out a hiss between his teeth but didn't let his feet falter. He kept his eyes forward, making sure to keep running. It was hard to run fast with a man in his arms but he was doing alright. He thanked his time spent at the gym, training with the weights and cardio gear. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lance break focus to look up at him in worry. A warm trickle of blood came from the cut but Keith ignored it. Lance took that as a note that he was fine and returned to eyeing the men behind them.

"One to your left, go right. Three, two, slide." Keith listened, doing as he was told. Lance was the professional here, he'd dealt with this and most likely gave his own team these instructions. The bullet went straight through where he'd been standing that one second ago. He mentally thanked Lance for saving his life. "Now to your right. Fuck, to your left. Speed your ass up. Put me down, it'll help you speed up." Keith shook his head.

"You're hurt, you'll only slow me down." Keith saw Lance open his mouth in his peripheral vision, "And I'm not leaving you behind, don't even think about it. I'm going against my gang to get your out of here."

"At least get me a gun or something." Okay, that would help. Oh, and it was just their luck when they turned a corner to come face to face with two men. One held a handgun while the other brandished dual blades. Perfect.

Keith swiftly let Lance onto his feet before rushing forward and tackling one to the ground. He vaguely registered Lance kicking the other's face with amazing flexibility. Keith already knew of Lance's lack of ability for close combat from when they had kidnapped him but it looked as though he was doing a better job with this guy.

Keith wrestled his guy's knife out of his grasp, pinning his arms down with his knees and grabbing his wrists so he could dig his thumb into the pulse points there. The man tried hard to keep a grip on the knives but his fingers loosened and the knives clattered to the floor. Keith grabbed one of them and thrust it straight into the man's chest. Once, twice, three times until the guy stopped struggling. He then grabbed the other knife. But, just as his fingers wrapped around the handle, he heard a loud gunshot behind him. The blood drained from his face as he immediately thought the worst, standing and turning around. He was ready to attack the gunman, ready to kill him for hurting Lance, he was going to sta-.

Lance stood, feet either side of the gunman's body as the gun was held in his hand. He was staring down at the bullet hole in between the guy's eyes, chest rising and falling quickly. His gaze flickered up to Keith briefly. There was a look of guilt in those azure eyes. He was meant to be protecting people from crime, not killing people who committed the crime, that was his job.

"You had to do it, Lance." He said, voice calm. Lance's expression steeled and he nodded before he turned to the direction they came. He raised the gun, waited a few seconds for the men to come around the corner. He wasted no time in shooting each of them with quick, precise movements. Each bullet hit its mark. Most of which being a side, thigh or shoulder. He made he sure he wouldn't be killing anyone else. Keith just watched on from behind him, jaw parted and his lips forming a small 'o'. They didn't call him the sharpshooter for nothing. Even if Lance was leaning on one leg due to the other still hurting for a reason Keith still didn't know, his hits met their mark without a struggle.

Once the last guy was on the ground, legs skidding out from underneath him as two bullets pierced each of his shoulders. Lance turned then and flashed Keith a toothy grin, using his free hand to give him a playful finger gun. Keith couldn't help but smile in reply, adjusting the blades in his hands.

"I know, I'm a badass."

"And you have a great ass. I hit the jackpot here." Keith replied. This time he didn't miss the way Lance's cheeks turned a light shade of red. Then he was smirking.

"We're so going on a date." Lance said, tone final. Keith didn't have any room to disagree, not that he wanted to anyway.

"But that's after we get out of here and save your dad." Keith said. Lance's smirk was replaced by a look of pure determination. Keith missed that look as soon as it disappeared. He liked it when Lance was playful, even if the situation wasn't ideal for it.

Lance limped over to him, throwing an arm around Keith's shoulders for support. His nose scrunched slightly at the ache in the limb. Keith wanted to take away the pain. His eyes flickered up to the burn on his skin. That must be stinging like hell but Lance was managing to ignore it. Keith wrapped an arm around Lance's waist to help as he began to quickly lead the way through the halls to where he knew the exit was, making sure to slide the knife in that hand into his belt.

They walked at a fast pace, maybe a little slower than wanted with Lance's condition. They encountered a few members of the gang, Icabe and Eebat included, but Lance was quick to shoot them down. That was until his bullets run out so it left Keith to pull away from helping Lance to attack with his blades. When they were only a hall, one corner away from the exit, Keith urged Lance to try and hurry his legs. Lance did try but the soft whines that left his mouth when he put pressure on his injured leg had Keith picking him up again after quickly sliding the knives into his belt. He wasn't going to let him feel any more pain.

"I love it when you carry me. Makes me feel light."

"That's because you are." Keith replied, stopping at the last corner and pressed his back against the wall. He poked his head around, eyeing the hall. He locked eyes onto the door to the exit. No one was guarding it. Perfect! He made a break for it.

He didn't register the bang until he felt searing pain in his side. A cry of surprise mixed with pain as he tumbled to the ground, dropping Lance on his way down. He landed mostly on top of the brunet, hearing the loud 'oof' from beneath him. Upon realising, he rolled off of him and onto his back. He pushed up onto his elbow, groaning in pain at the flaring in his side. He met Lance's gaze, realising how shocked he looked. Then Lance looked down at Keith's body, Keith's following his line of view. It took him a short moment to realise he'd been shot. Blood was already staining his shirt, turning the red fabric a dark crimson. Oh, shit, that was bad. He looked up to see Lance crawling forward that small distance to get to him, kneeling next to him and pressing his hands against the wound. There was too much blood already for it to be healthy. God, it felt like his side was on fire.

"Just let the traitor die." Came a disgustingly familiar voice. Keith looked away from Lance finally to stare over at the man who'd shot him. Zarkon stood, spinning a gun in his hand with a sick grin on his face. "That was a wonderful attempt at escaping, I have to say, I wasn't expecting one of my men to help you." Keith tried to push himself into a sitting position so he could put himself in front of Lance, wanting to protect him from Zarkon, but Lance shook his head at him. That was enough to make him stay still no matter how much his protective instincts kicked in. "Don't worry, you'll both be dead soon."

The next few seconds played in slow motion. Zarkon raised his gun at Keith again. Keith felt the pressure leave his side and then vaguely felt the slide of his knives being removed from his belt. He watched as those knives sailed through the air with no warning. One hit the gun out of Zarkon's hand while the other let out a meaty thunk as it sunk straight through the centre of his throat. He let out a gurgling noise, blood trickling from the corners of the lips as his hands went straight to the knife in his throat. He fell back with a strangled cry.

Keith's eyes were wide as he looked to Lance who still had his arms poised in a throwing position. The look on his face was one of clear anger. Seemed like he didn't have impeccable aim with just guns. Then Lance was looking back at him, features full of worry. His hands moved so they were hovering over the sides of Keith's face, not touching due to the blood on them. Keith's blood. That was a lot of blood on his hands... They had to get out of there. Keith pressed a hand to put pressure on the wound while the other gently wrapped around one of Lance's wrists.

"We have..." Speaking was harder than it should be. Keith blamed the fact he was loosing too much blood too quickly. "We have to- Have to-" he couldn't get his mouth to form the right words. But Lance got the idea. He stood with a little struggle, reaching out a hand for Keith to take so he could pull him to his feet. Keith held back a noise of pain at the movement. Lance had his arm around him while Keith put pressure on the wound. They moved to the exit. It took them a few minutes, but it felt like hours before they pushed through the door. Keith spared a glance to Lance to see the slightest of smiles at finally being free.

The soft glow of the moonlight on Lance's skin, lighting up those pretty blue eyes, it made him look absolutely stunning.

"Stay awake, okay?" Lance speaking broke Keith out of his slight daze. It took him a short moment to realise his eyes had been shutting. His legs stumbled underneath him, trying to keep functioning. Keith felt his energy seeping out with the blood out of the gunshot wound. Staying awake seemed a little bit too hard. He could just about hear Lance's voice. It sounded as though Keith was underwater, Lance's voice coming from above the surface. "We're going on that date, you're going to treat me. Make this whole hostage thing up to me, 'kay? No, bad Keith, keep those gorgeous eyes on me." It was easier said than done.

It wasn't long after that his legs just gave up on him. He dropped, Lance being unable to hold him up. He barely registered Lance kneeling next to him while frantically calling his name. His side didn't hurt anymore, it was completely numb. In fact, almost everything was numb. Was this how dying felt? It was oddly calming... To think one shot to the side was enough to kill him. At least he got Lance out of there. Lance was safe. Zarkon was dead. His parents would be proud of him. He'd got out of the gang and he saved someone important. He could die a happy man. Wait. He had one last thing to do.

Lance was bent over him, tears gathering in his eyes. "Keith, Keith, stay awake. We'll get you to the hospital and- and they'll heal you." Keith could hear that raw desperation in his voice. His hands pressed down on his wound to try and keep the blood where it should be. "I'm not letting you die on me. You saved me, let me save you." Those tears made Lance's eyes glisten. Beautiful. They spilled onto his cheeks, catching on his jaw before dropping onto Keith. Lance was biting his lower lip to stifle a sob as his nose wrinkled and the corners of his mouth tugged downwards. His eyebrows tilted upwards and his eyes scrunched up slightly. Keith couldn't help but let out a breathless chuckle. He was an ugly crier. "Don't laugh at me, you idiot." He said, voice wobbling, "You're freaking dying."

"Lance..." Keith whispered and raised a hand to gently press it to the other's cheek. Lance leant into the touch. Keith traced his thumb over cheekbone, gently wiping away a few tears. "Y-you stay safe." There was pause where Lance couldn't hold back a sob. "F-fuck it. Just kiss me." Lance didn't have to be told twice.

He bent down the distance between them and pressed a gentle kiss to Keith's lips. It was sweet, it made Keith forget about the fact he was bleeding out on the ground. He was pretty sure he was dying but at least Lance was kissing him. He could barely keep his eyes open anymore. Just as Lance pulled back did he let his eyes finally shut. He heard Lance call his name, felt him shake his shoulders in a desperate attempt as he begged to stay awake.

Keith wished he could but he couldn't stay awake anymore.

  
*

  
The next time his eyes opened, he was surrounded by white. He blinked and squinted against the brightness of the colour. He turned his head slightly, realising it was resting upon something soft. Pillows? He glanced down at himself. He was in a bed. Not just any bed, it was a hospital bed. Raising one arm, he saw the needle that connected him to the IV drip. Since when was he taken to hospital? He didn't hear the door opening.

"You're awake!" He heard a familiar voice exclaim. His head whipped into the direction it came from, eager to see Lance. He wanted to make sure he was okay. Lance stood in the doorway with a plastic carrier bag in his hand. He had several plasters on his head, a bandage wrapped around his forehead and temples then another bandage around his neck. He had a crutch tucked under his free arm. Lance almost tripped over it in his haste to get to the bedside. "You bastard, you terrified me." He immediately grasped Keith's hand and grinned happily down at him. Keith smiled back up at him.

"How long have I been out?"

"Four days. You lost a lot of blood there. I had to drag your ass to hospital, do you know how heavy you are? I felt like my arms were gonna come right out of their sockets."

"Your father?" Keith asked. He had to make sure everything was okay. Everything worked out.

"Safe. I called him once I got to the hospital. He stayed until I was all patched up. We also arrested the gang, every last one of them." Lance pulled the hand up and bent down to kiss the knuckles. Keith was sure he blushed a little. "Richtek wailed like a baby!" The image was funny enough to have Keith laughing. "I love your laugh."

"Well, I love your stupid smile." Now it was Lance's turn to blush. A comfortable silence fell between them. Keith was the one who broke it. "To think I betrayed my gang for you."

"It was fun though, wasn't it?" Lance tilted his head in that adorable puppy-like way, "I'm worth it."

"Yep, you're definitely worth it."

"'Cos baby I'm worth it~" Lance sang. Keith just rolled his eyes, reached out and grabbed Lance's shirt to pull him down for a kiss. This loveable dork.

Keith smiled up at him when he pulled away, letting go of his shirt.

"Has anyone told you that you look hot when you're determined?"

"Nope, never." Keith replied, remembering their escape. Lance smiled brightly. Keith found himself mesmerised by how beautiful it was. Well, that only lasted a few seconds before he was being kissed again. It was Lance who pulled away first that time.

"Oh, yeah! I went to the store and bought a bunch of stuff. Look, I got you a pillow-friend. It's a hippo. I saw it and I thought of you." He pulled out the soft pillow from the bag and placed it on Keith's chest. It was purple. Keith loved it, wrapping an arm around it and hugging it close to himself. "I got myself one too." He pulled out another one the shape of a shark. He moved its mouth at Keith. "Jaws is back. Nom nom."

Keith laughed. God, he was bloody well glad he saved this idiot.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise if there were any mistakes, I tried.
> 
> Also, thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it. ((:::


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